His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 36

Whitley took a deep breath.

Maybe it was just because of his status.

For someone in Clive's elite circle, marriage wasn't about love. It was a strategic asset—a tool for maintaining public image, securing alliances, and projecting stability. He needed the facade of a perfect marriage to uphold his impeccable reputation, even if that marriage was completely dead behind closed doors, and even if he felt absolutely nothing for her.

And she was the perfect prop. Obedient, quiet, and easily controlled.

Whitley closed her eyes, a freezing numbness settling into her bones.

She had no choice.

Her family's survival, her grandmother's medical bills, their literal ability to eat—it was all in Clive's hands now.

She could swallow her own pride, but she couldn't let her family be driven to ruin because of her.

Her grip on the phone tightened until her joints ached. Biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her rage, she ended the call, turned around, and walked slowly down the stairs.

Sure enough, parked under the flickering streetlamp was the familiar black luxury sedan.

The window rolled down. When the driver, Cole, saw her approaching, he quickly stepped out of the car. He offered a polite, yet noticeably detached, gesture toward the backseat.

"Ms. Nash. Mr. Sherwood sent me to bring you home."

Whitley stood frozen, staring at the open car door as if it were a trap waiting to snap shut around her.

Seeing her pale, resistant expression, Cole secretly rolled his eyes. He genuinely thought she was being incredibly ungrateful.

She was married into the Sherwood family. She had access to unimaginable wealth, status, and luxury. All she had to do was sit back, enjoy the privileges of being Mrs. Sherwood, and live a life most people only dreamed of.

Instead, she was constantly running away, throwing tantrums, and acting miserable. She didn't know how good she had it. She was just creating drama for absolutely no reason.

But as a driver, he kept those thoughts strictly to himself. He maintained his professional posture, silently waiting for her to get in.

Finally, Whitley climbed into the car and was driven back to the villa.

Whitley's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

She refused to even look at him. Her voice was like ice. "I don't want it."

A flat, immediate rejection. Bristling with hostility.

Standing behind her, Cole tensed, his eyes darting nervously toward Clive. He barely dared to breathe.

He had never seen anyone speak to Mr. Sherwood with such blatant disrespect.

But Clive's expression didn't shift. He didn't look angry; in fact, he looked incredibly patient.

He slowly lowered the document and locked his dark eyes onto hers, his tone still perfectly even. "Whitley, stop throwing a tantrum."

He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "If you keep looking this exhausted and sick, you're going to resign from PurePath Biologics and stay home to recover."

"I don't need my wife working herself into the ground. You don't need to be out there hustling. Stay home and be Mrs. Sherwood. No one is going to take your place."